The Bourne Alias
by Veronica Barton
Summary: Vaughn had always suspected that there were other products of Project Christmas out there... he was right. Julia Thorne and Jason Bourne are the last two products of the human weapon projects.
1. Default Chapter

WARNING: This fanfic is inspired by my very recent viewing of The Borne Supremacy" and will refer to it often, so if you haven't seen it and want to...you may be spoiled... proceed with caution!!!  
  
ALSO... I _LOVE_ Syd/Vaughn, but have strayed from my loyalty in the name of "the story"!

Unfortunately, I own neither ALIAS nor The Bourne Identity, this is merely my own creative ramblings!

**The Bourne Alias  
**  
**Prologue**  
  
Vaughn had always suspected that there were other products of Project Christmas out there.  
  
And he was right.  
  
What he didn't know was that there were now only two individuals left from the USA's desperate "human weapon" attempts. Two souls from separate projects; strangers, yet identical in nature.  
  
It had been a race of sorts, to determin the most effective method. The assignment to produce living, breathing, thinking, and acting super agents was given to several young CIA hotshots eager to prove their worth.  
  
And while many projects came and went, two held strong, and stayed a well kept secret: Treadstone and Project Christmas. 


	2. Chapter 2

A) I am a MAJOR M. Night Shyamalan fan and I think my story is going to go in an "Unbreakable" direction

B) I am a MAJOR music person and will often use musical lines in my stories... can you name song and singer!?!

C) I just graduated from college as an English major so I will probably make some assumed literary references.

D) I ain't never done well in grammer or speeling, so don't kill me for comma, splices!!! Unless you want to volunteer as a beta!

E) I love you guys, thanks for reading and PLEASE REVIEW!!!  
  
Chapter 1  
  
"To be or not to be? I mean class... that _**is**_ the question."  
  
The students sit mesmerized as Professor Matthews works his magic over them. And as always, in his inhumanly perfect timing, there is just enough time for a reverent dramatic pause before the bell brakes the spell and the students pull themselves from the alternate reality of higher education to grin in disbelief at their professor's wisdom and sexiness, and scurry to write down final notes before packing up their bags to leave.  
  
"Right, tonight I want you to write a thousand words, on who you are, the choices before you, their possible consequences, and so on. I mean 'this is your life, are you who you want to be?' Answer that question for me... for yourselves... and I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
And as usual he begins to pack his own bag in vain, for he is soon surrounded by eager learners and obnoxious flirters full of questions, comments, and come-ons.  
  
It is just another typical day he has come to expect since he first began teaching at the University in the previous fall semester. It is a small yet respectable institution which apparently has trouble hiring young blooded teachers; something about "tradition" and not being a "bigshot, research school." Which made them only too pleased when the highly certified and recommended Professor Matthews applied to teach at their humble establishment.  
  
Whatever the reasons are for this school's respectable obscurity, he is thankful and grateful for it's smallness in size and mind. They don't think to think that he could have once been an international spy and assassin.  
  
No, to them he is just David Matthews: charismatic English and History professor; willing and more than qualified to teach self-defense as well as run the intramural sports program; who just so happens to single handedly take care of a few minor security situations every now and then; and spends his breaks hiking and mountain climbing. He goes to all the games, plays, and concerts; he patiently listens to the endless ramblings of the older and wiser professors and encourages the passionate students to "make their voice heard!" All the girls love him, and the guys want to be him.  
  
Sure, it's lonely at times, and often seems like a waste of ability, but it's safe. Safe from enemies and safe from himself, and the damage he could cause to others.  
  
Sometimes he feels guilty, it really is all too perfect: small Appalachian town, four beautiful seasons, a loyal golden retriever, a newly remodeled turn of the century Victorian house, a self-less and inspirational job, cluelessly quaint co-workers and neighbors, and millions in a bank account ready to be spent on countless summer and winter vacations .  
  
She should be here, but she's not, she's gone, and if she can not be here then he is determined to live his life with some sense of normalcy, it's what she would have wanted.  
  
This is the life he has made for himself, and like the day before, this one seems no different than the next, a fact that is strangely comforting to him; however, being comfortable, simply living, is his Achilles Heal, his habitual flaw.  
  
Today is different; he just doesn't know it yet. He doesn't realize it until the crowd clears, and he thinks he's finally free to retreat to his cozy corner office. But as he turns to go, a quiet confident voice calls to him from the back of the room.  
  
"Professor Matthews?"  
  
He turns to find a stranger, he hasn't seen her before, he's sure of it. He immediately tenses and begins to over-analyze her, old habits die hard. But as she walks up the isle of empty desks his muscles loosen and he thinks she must be a new student.  
  
He quickly tries to dissect her: older, perhaps a commuter; beautiful and classic, from the city; scared yet confident; tanned, not from around here; west coast accent, no wait, she sounds like she has spoken many languages, multi-lingual; she tucks her hair behind her ear, nervous; she never breaks eye contact, curiously determined...  
  
"Professor Matthews, do you have a minute?" His analysis is cut short as she begins again.  
  
When she speaks, something strange happens inside of him, something he thought had died more than a year ago, something he was beginning to believe had never been real. He feels.  
  
This reality alone is not what startles him, but rather the intensity of the multitude of emotions he feels. He's not sure if it's his reaction to her or all the emotion pouring from her dark chocolate eyes and her thinly veiled desperation.  
  
Regardless, he is a little taken aback by the power of the moment which has apparently given her a renewed boldness, as she catches him off guard.  
  
"I was hoping to speak to you about my project."  
  
Project? He doesn't recall having assigned those yet, he mentally reviews, and firmly believes he has definitely not assigned it, so that's it... she's an over-achiever. He lowers his head preparing to collect his wayward thoughts and to hide his amused annoyance.  
  
"I was hoping to do a collection of original poems and I was wondering what you thought of the title 'Treadstone'?"  
  
Mid-grin his head snaps up and his whole demeanor changes to the defensive. Gone is Mr. Nice Guy, Jason Bourne is back and immediately ready for action.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

"Who are you?"

For most people it would be such a simple question, easily answered with shallow surface facts, but for those who have spent their lives pretending to be everyone BUT themselves it becomes so complicated.

The stranger before him grows anxious and fidgety, looking around for God only knows what… well, God and Jason Bourne – she's looking for signs of the enemy.

"Not here, do you have, uh, time for a special conference? In your office maybe?"

He should go into self-defense mode, he should attack, he should run, but something about her makes him stay; she feels familiar, he has seen that look of fear and determination, confident desperation, she looks like someone he knows – himself.

With a "sure" and a quick glance around for invisible enemies, he slowly backs up towards the door, keeping his eyes on her the whole time.

Once in the hallway they walk side by side trying to act natural while hiding their "ready for attack" stance.

They pass a few adoring students, Professor Matthews winks and waves, his signature move that causes the giddy girls to giggle with delight. The mystery woman tucks her hair behind her ear and gives a mockingly questioning look to the obvious campus heart throb.

But Bourne offers no visible reply, and he has his game face on as he opens the door to what she can only assume must be the "coolest" office on campus.

She walks through the doorway observing her new surroundings: a big read couch, to disguise blood no doubt, walls lined with historical weapons (that have obviously been kept in good condition in case they are ever needed), a refreshment table, for drinks and poisoning if need be…

BAAM

The door slams behind her and before she can turn around to react, she is up against the wall pinned in a choke hold by hands that could kill with the slightest squeeze.

"So, who are you?"

"Sydney Bristow" she chokes out, she has no reason to lie, she is beyond that now, she didn't come to lie, "the question is, who are you?"

"Sydney?" he releases her and doesn't even notice as she chokes and sputters trying to breathe normally. He is too preoccupied with the headache coming on and the flashes of images playing out before him: a little girl in a pink dress, summer camp, swimming, weaponry, fighting, crying…

"Jason? Jason are you okay?"

The sound of her soothing voice makes the spinning stop and he opens his eyes to find himself on the floor with his head in his hands.

"What? Yeah, yeah, I don't know what came over me. Sydney? Do I know you?"

She helps him up, gets him to the couch, and then pours him a poison free glass of water.

"Here, I don't know, I doubt if you really know. But I know who you are, and I need your help, is this place safe? Can we talk?"

He sighs heavily, "well if you wanted to kill me, I guess you'd be dead after trying, so since you made it this far… no, come to my place tonight around 7 o'clock, we can talk then, I gatta get out of here."

So, he handed her directions to his home and left quickly trying not to black out from the intense pain in his brain… man these memory headaches are a pain in the …

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello all, I am back, thank you for all the lovely reviews, I have been swamped with life, but I think I have my second wind and maybe a plot in mind, I am switching gears a bit and the story will be post season 4, well long after actually, a few months, but nothing has really changed in what has already taken place, just the context. This is just kind of a re-entry chapter I have to get back up to speed!_

_I hope the back and forth between Jason and David and Sydney, Sarah, and Julia aren't too confusing, but I think I have made it clear._

_Also, I haven't actually read the Bourne books so I don't know that much about Treadstone, I am just going by the films._

**Chapter 3**

At seven o'clock sharp super-spy Sydney Bristow walked through the gate of the most perfect picked fence she had ever seen then strolled up the path that led to the home of her dreams.

She uncrossed her arms and let down her guard as she approached the front steps, taking in the picturesque scene around her: this perfect little house, on the corner of a perfect little street lined with other perfect little homes that lead to the perfect town square and the perfect little private college just beyond. And the bells began to chime the time.

The sidewalks were speckled with neighbors walking their dogs, watering their lawns, fighting with their boyfriends, yelling at their kids to stay out of the street. Even the imperfections were perfect.

She sighed a sigh of regret for the life she would never live. Unless, of course, she wanted to go back to Liberty Village, but what would be the point of giving up one life of lies for another? Speaking of living a life of lies, it was time to get down to the business at hand - "Prof. David Matthews." She had to admit she did like his choice of alias.

With a quick pep-talk to herself, she rang the doorbell and a sweet melodic tune could be heard throughout the house announcing her arrival. She waited patiently gathering her nerve and gusto. After a moment of no reply, she tried again.

When he still didn't answer she tried the door only to find it locked, then went to the front widow and peered through but saw nothing out of the ordinary, no sign of struggle. She impatiently tried the doorbell again then stepped out into the yard to survey the house and street.

When she did, a voice from behind startled her out of spy-mode.

"Sarah! Sarah! Oh my God, what are you doing here!"

Before she could ask Jason, no David, if he had lost his mind, they were interrupted by the perfect nosy neighbor and she decided to smile and play along.

"Hello David, who's your friend?" said the curler-covered, grey-haired, busy-body next door feeding her many cats and watering her dying ferns.

Jason didn't miss a beat "Hello Ms. Ruby, this is my sister Sarah, she just surprised me!"

With that Jason engulfed Sydney into a big bear hug and swung her around before bringing her back down to earth.

Catching her breath she jumped into the game, punching him playfully on the arm "Hey big brother… Surprise!"

In no time flat they were joined by the delighted Ms. Ruby. "Oh how lovely, I'll bake a pie, do you like apple or cherry!" At this Sydney grinned from dimple to dimple and lost herself in the dream of Sarah, and Sarah loves "oh apple pie is my favorite!"

"Ha, yeah, one time mom had made like 5 apple pies for Thanksgiving dinner and, uh," Jason stopped mid-sentence to recover from the shock and blow of Sydney elbowing him in the ribs.

"Shut-up, you always lie about that, I did not eat **_all_** 5 pies while everyone was napping" she finished the story that neither of them knew the ending to, "I ate one," she confessed with a giggle and a grin. Perfect.

"Hey David, who's your friend?" came a sugary sweet call from a rather sultry woman jogging in the street.

"Hey Marcie, this is my sister Sarah," at this the woman's demeanor visibly changed from suspicion to celebration.

"Well hello Sarah, how long will you be in town? Let me know if you want to go on the town? I'd love to hear stories of David as a kid; I'll bet he was even cuter than he is now! Give me a call!"

She directed her bubbly speech to Sarah but it was obvious that the show was for David, and with a wink she was gone just a soon as she had come.

Sydney cocked and eye-brow and crossed her arms, "well, well, big brother aren't you popular? I just might have to take her up on that offer!"

"No way, I want you all to myself," he replied, wrapping an arm around her neck and giving her a noggie before letting her go, "if you'll excuse us Ms. Ruby, we have some catching up to do!"

"Oh all right, I'll bring the pie tomorrow, get some ice cream, cause I like mine a la mode!"

"Yes maam, will do!" That seemed to satisfy her and she turned to go but not without a final question, "Honey where's your bags, you plan'n on wearing the same thing everyday you're here?"

This threw both Jason and Sydney for a second, but she made a quick recovery, "well I just have one, and it's at the Dragonfly Inn, off the square."

"Oh David, that's a shame, family should stay with family! What is the world coming to, back in the day" she grumbled as she made her way back to her little fortress.

"Your right Ms. Ruby," Jason yelled after her, "we'll go get it right now!"

This earned him a questioning look from Sydney, and once again she seriously considered whether or not he might have actually lost his mind or at least his memory within the last few hours.

"Care to walk a bit?" He asked like it was only natural.

"Sure," she replied with a hint of question and hesitation.

They started to stroll down the now quiet street towards the heart of town. He was the first to break the awkward silence, "thanks."

"Sure, but for what?"

"For adding to my alias, family always adds legitimacy, people love family, especially the people in this town, besides there's no way I would have gotten away with having strange woman coming and going from my house, they'd call a town meeting!"

Syd smiled, "sounds perfect."

He looked over searching for the confidently petrified woman he had seen earlier today in his classroom and was surprised to see her masked with a false sense a peace and overwhelming grief.

"So Sydney Bristow, what brings you my way, did they send you?"

"Do you really think it's wise to talk in the street?"

"Trust me, it's clean, if a person from the next town over dares to venture here it makes the weekly news, we're safe, especially since you are family… sis!"

Not being one for humor he thought his last remark was fairly witty and deserving of at least a grin but when he looked to her for a response he realized she had stopped a few steps back.

"What?"

"We kind of are family, I mean not really, but in a way, I guess."

This caught his interest and trying to keep up a casual outward appearance for the eyes peering out front windows, he stepped closer as if to press for more.

"We're the last you know."

"Of Treadstone? I don't recall you being on the list, I could have sworn I took care of,"

"No, not of Treadstone, well yes, but no. You and I, we are the last of the Cold War human-weapon experiments."

He had her full attention now, and he was vaguely aware of keeping up appearances, "go on."

"There were two main projects, given to two CIA hot-shots trying to prove themselves or something. It was like a race or competition or sick joke. One project was Treadstone and the other was Project Christmas. I mean both of them did basically the same thing, trained kids to act as weapons. The main difference is that you were created to perform and forget, and I was created to be the perfect 'company girl' I don't get the luxury of forgetting, but then again I was mostly used to gain information, I wasn't trained to just kill per se."

"Well Merry Christmas to you, believe me you got the better end of the deal, some of the 'forgetting' part didn't actually work out as they planned."

They were interrupted by the sound of a honking horn and a car full of rowdy boys coming up the street. "Hey Dr. D, who's the hot chick!"

"Hey, guys, this 'hot chick' is my sister Sarah, so hands off!"

The youthful driver stuck his hands in the air as a sign of surrender, the other guys whistled and offered varying apologies "sorry Ms. Matthews, how were we suppose to know that Dr. D had a hot sister?" "Yeah sorry Dr. D, please don't flunk us!"

Sydney appreciated this brief escape from reality and joined in the revelry "Hey boys, if you're nice I'll try to smuggle out some test answers!"

"Ha, brilliant! So Sarah wanna come to Common Grounds with us, you can make our girlfriends jealous!"

She was almost tempted to comply, she was really good at making girlfriends jealous, but Jason stepped in and ruined the fun, "sorry guys, she'll have to ruin your reputations another day, we are catching up and we just got to Christmas."

The simple remark shook Sydney back to reality, "sorry guys, maybe next time," she said with the huge empty smile she had used millions of times to charm scum-bags the world wide.

"Okay, you're loss, later, see you tomorrow in class Dr. D" they drove of in a cloud of Ben Folds and crude jokes that could be heard long after they turned the corner.

And Sydney stood and watched as they drove out of sight, taking with them a brief moment of normalcy she longed to savor until the spell was broken.

And all too soon it was, because Jason seemed to ready to get to know this stranger before him and the reason he was going to have start all over again.

"So, Christmas."


End file.
